


Time to Myself, Like It Used to Be

by 1f_this_be_madness



Series: Storm the Court and Save the King [7]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Affectionate Insults, Anger, Angst, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic, Arthur Pendragon Lives (Merlin), Arthur takes the bull by the horns, Arthur's a prat but he is trying really, At least they're (trying) to communicate, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Banter, Communication, Confused Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Crying, Exhaustion, Fear, Frustration, Getting Together, Guilt, I Don't Even Know, Insecurity, Inspired by Music, M/M, Manhandling, Merlin is Not Amused, Merlin says Quit Playing Games With My Heart, Merlin's sass is beautiful to behold, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Orders, POV Alternating, Post-Battle of Camlann (Merlin), Post-Canon, Relationship Negotiation, Rough Kissing, Swearing, There are some issues needing to be sorted out, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Two halves of a whole idiot, What Have I Done, Worried Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:35:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27004426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1f_this_be_madness/pseuds/1f_this_be_madness
Summary: Merlin is tired. Tired of being dictated to, every minute of every day. Tired of his duties, of his destiny, of being the servingman to the biggest prat in Camelot. Tonight, he's done with it. And so he snaps.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Series: Storm the Court and Save the King [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912063
Comments: 8
Kudos: 159





	1. Chapter 1

"Well, Merlin, since you have this time to yourself -"

Innocuous enough words, surely; at least, to anyone who is not his insolent manservant. The king has come in and been readied for bed in the usual way; yet afterwards, on this occasion, he speaks fatefully. 

Merlin's eyes seem like they might shoot fire or arrows across the room. Which, now that Arthur knows of his power, he is sure that Merlin can truly do such a thing, if he wanted. "Time to myself? I haven't had a chance to do anything for myself - ever since I came to Camelot, it's 'do this, Merlin! Do that Merlin, polish my armour, shine every single pair of boots I own, muck out the stables -' even though there are people whose JOB it is to do that, but oh I suppose that I'm the prince's, now king's stableboy as well as his manservant, his speechwriter, his flower-picker, his lady wooer. I bet you haven't the faintest clue how to compliment a girl on your own, Arthur. Go on, then - say something flattering! I dare you!" Merlin stamps forward, eyes glittering as Arthur simply stares. "Hah! I knew it. See, sire, I'm sorry, but I've scrubbed your floor and cleaned the linings of your cloaks and done every single possible thing for you, even keep you _alive_ yet I'm not going to even be able to sleep in my own bed tonight, because -"

"Oh shut up, Merlin," Arthur snaps, eyes sharp, tone cold as he sweeps his arm at his four-poster bed. "Since you've worked so much today, tonight, all these years, you're right. You won't get to sleep in your bed, because you'll be taking mine. Go on." It is now Merlin's turn to stare as Arthur rolls his eyes and sharply shoves his servant in the centre of the chest. 

Merlin, who'd been standing close enough to Arthur to breathe his air, and near enough to the bed for the backs of his legs to clip upon its edge, falls back with a perfectly blanket-plumping bounce that Arthur does not find adorable in the slightest. "Here you are again, hitting me," he wets his lips and looks up at his king in challenge. Cocking one eyebrow in sardonic fashion, as always. Cheeky boy. "Is this horseplay too?"

"No," Arthur growls and moves sharply from where he had been standing in his nighttime trousers, bare chest heaving under now crossed arms. He lunges, plants his knees on either side of Merlin's hips and throws his body forward, one hand catching atop the mattress and bracing his face right in front of and over Merlin's. The other man gulps, apple of his throat dipping deep as a flush rises to his pale cheeks. His bright blue eyes challenge Arthur's gaze, and the king works to not allow a smirk to tug his mouth upwards. "Insolent, but still an idiot. This isn't horseplay." With his other hand, Arthur captures the back of Merlin's neck, fingers sliding into his raven hair and clutching a handful of it. Merlin gasps, plump lips parting, and suddenly Arthur's lips are on them in an abrupt yet passionate kiss, his teeth pressing into the flesh of Merlin's lower lip before his tongue swipes into his mouth, the thin man expelling a sharp high breathless sound. Merlin's fist is clenching in the blankets as Arthur draws back at last.

Merlin's eyes flutter open again - he'd closed them during the kiss as though involuntarily, and is gasping as his gaze flickers back and forth over the king's face. "Arthur," he almost whispers, voice rough from shouting, pupils dilated and chest heaving, and the king wants to take him. Just grab hold and milk everything out of Merlin, until he shatters apart from ecstasy and takes Arthur with him. But no, Merlin had just been shouting. Now he's whispering.

Arthur raises both eyebrows, sighing as he attempts to appear business-like. "What is it, Merlin?"

Merlin blinks beneath him, lips pursing into a circle as he leans back upon his elbows and forearms, an incredulous smile rising onto his face. "You just kissed me, as if it changes anything."

"Well does it?" Arthur's voice is smooth, controlled. Never mind the sweat that has started dripping down his neck, or the pounding of his heart that hasn't had a chance to slow. Never mind the tight feeling of his trousers that Merlin hasn't noticed, and he'll be damned if he is pointing anything else of this -

"You pompous, arrogant clotpole," Merlin breathes, smile dying. "I can't believe you'd honestly think you could... distract me, or what have you, with a kiss! Wait," his eyes go wide, his expression loses the last remnants of incredulity and drops into something like hurt. He backs up, towards the pillows and the other side of the bed, long fingers coming up to twist round the cloth of his neckerchief as he hauls in a hiss of air through his teeth before shaking his head. "No," his voice cracks. "No, you haven't done this to me. Not even you could - would be so cruel as that."

The king is actually lost. He moves to stay upright, reaching out as he shuffles after his servant. "Merlin, what -"

"No, don't," Merlin is shaking his head, movements violent, and gods, Arthur sees moisture in his eyes as the other squints, lifts his hands to press before his face. "...you, you haven't realised what I feel for you and figure tonight you make your move to force me to do whatever you want, even as I already do, because I lo-" Merlin stumbles out of bed, looking stricken, horrified. 

Arthur is legitimately concerned. "Merlin, sit back down, you're white as a sheet," he feels his heart thud painfully now even as his body throbs. "What are you going on about? You wanted a rest, so I'm giving you -"

"You're taking advantage of me, of what I'd do for you," Merlin is hissing, lips pressed together, eyes glistening with tears even as they are ablaze. He is stark, his features frightening but beautiful; the way light is glancing off his cheeks, the way he stands stiffly, holding himself upright. The strongest person Arthur knows, yet he seems as if he could very well break in this moment.

Arthur's eyes widen, darken at that, as he catches his manservant's meaning. "Merlin, that's not -"

"Not what you're doing? Not what this is? Oh, please. I'm not Gwen, I'm not any of the girls you've ever courted or were enchanted by or found enchanting. I've seen you at your best and at your worst, I've been by your side through everything, I've done everything for you, Arthur, and you only do this _now?!_ " he wipes furiously at his cheeks as sluicing streams begin to cascade down his face of their own accord.

His cheeks are reddening in earnest now. Arthur hasn't seen his friend cry like this since they met the dragonlord. _No man is worth your tears,_ he had said on that occasion, but what he thinks he ought to add now is _I am not worthy of them. You do so much, Merlin, your heart is a giving one. You're the most patient, the bravest -_

Thoughts cut off as he actually turns to leave, jerking open Arthur's door and seeming to shrink, to curl in upon himself even as his shoulders shake with the effort to suppress each sob. "Merlin," Arthur's voice is soft, gentle. It freezes the other in his tracks.

Long enough for Merlin to collect his scattered wits, at least. "After these revelations, I really must retire for tonight. I've seen and heard enough, sire." Voice cracking, he spins on his heel and makes a stiff bow before departing the room at what could be considered a run.

Arthur, heart in his throat as he realises how wholly sideways this moment and the plan he'd come up with on the spot has gone, lunges far too late after the other man, catches his foot in a tangle of blankets and sheets, and falls spectacularly off the bed, slamming into the flagstones with all his air exploding out of him.

And thus, instead of an authoritative bellow, damn the late hour, in a barely audible, absolutely pathetic-sounding wheeze the king croaks out:

_"Merlin!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well hello there! I have no idea what inspired this, I swear I had a cute (and possibly raunchy) initial idea but "Quit Playing Games" by the backstreet boys popped into my head and voila.
> 
> I have no clue where this could go or is going, so leave a comment if you'd like it to be continued. Hiatus who? Apparently inspiration continues to strike
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	2. Chapter 2

Merlin heads down the corridor with his jacket and his arms flying, shaking his head and blinking rapidly. His eyes blur as he wipes his fingers across both cheeks and tries to settle his shoulders, stop his racing heart and whirling thoughts.

He knows he is not an idiot, not in the way that Arthur always claims, but he feels like one now as he is running, as he'd nearly blurted out the whole truth to no use or purpose back in the king's room. And what of Gwen, if she had heard any of what transpired? He does not want to hurt her, and obviously she would be hurt more even than Arthur looked just now if that kiss had been planned...

Yet was it planned? Merlin stamps down stairs, pausing as he wonders. The manner in which Arthur had come at Merlin was deliberate. And yet there was shock in his stance, a freezing hesitant aspect of his expression that Merlin had not allowed time to fade before he began speaking, throwing Arthur's actions into his face. Lashing out, the way he has yearned to, yet he feels as if sharpened fingernails scrape under his skin now, flaying his flesh - itching and stinging and burning, and - Merlin dodges into an alcove beneath a window just before the opening out to the grassy expanse of the bailey.

Slamming into the frigid stone and squeezing shut his eyes as he slides down into a sitting position, Merlin moans. Unconsciously he'd run almost to the edge of the field where he saw Arthur training when they first met. If that is not hopeless, he hasn't a clue what is. He remembers his initial sight of the prince, the royal prat so vividly. How golden he was, bright and laughing, and then seeing what he was doing had diminished that immediate reaction he had felt so intensely.

_"Hey, that's enough. You've had your fun, my friend."_

_"Do I know you?"_

_"No, I don't think so."_

_"...And yet you called me 'friend'."_

_"Ah. Yes, that's my mistake."_

_"Yes, it is."_

_"... I'd never have a friend who would be such an ass."_

Yet somehow, the initial feeling never fully faded. Perhaps that was why Merlin had grabbed Arthur out of the way of the witch's knife. Perhaps that was why he listened to the Great Dragon and believed in his destiny. In Arthur's destiny. But then Mordred had come to be a knight and all seemed set to change, until the druid girl was hanged, then every change towards legalising magic, each stride towards peace was sacrificed. Merlin had not told Arthur the truth for far too long, and they will suffer dearly for it. He knows so now as surely as he knows one can catch a cold from remaining out of doors for too long in the chill wind.

_"I'm Merlin."_

_"Well tell me, **Merlin** , do you know how to walk on your knees?"_

Merlin thinks on the strength of Arthur's knees, unwittingly, as they had braced against him; as he felt Arthur strain, bending over him, holding on - Merlin expels a gasp and buries his face in his hands, fingers clutching wildly at the ends of his ebony hair, grown slightly shaggy of late. He feels dirty at that, decides he shall cut it, or ask Gaius for help, when he feels as much as hears a presence beside him. The clearing of a throat, and Arthur's quiet voice, rough, shocking in juxtaposition to Merlin's memory of their very first interaction. He sounds... hesitant as he speaks this time.

"There you are," a heavy breath, Merlin peeking through his fingers to ascertain an expression of what would likely be relief on anyone else's face. Whereas Arthur never so baldly showcases feelings outside the realm of annoyance. Case in point, his features seem placid, tone measured as he continues: "Thought you might have gone off into the woods."

"In the middle of the night, really," Merlin deadpans with a snort. "How astute, sire, I obviously have no reason for or capability of being alone here, and so would logically choose to travel alone, into the forest, at night. Great." Merlin nods sarcastically, dropping his hands from face and hair, sniffing and wiping at his eyes again in fury. "Stellar idea."

"Oh, shut up," Arthur says, but hesitates. There is a flicker of concern, of uncertainty upon his brow as he turns. Cloth flourishes - he is wearing a cloak over his bare chest, though not shoes, to Merlin's dry amusement. He crouches, facing and then settling heavily against the stone wall next to Merlin. "Are you all right?"

Merlin bites back several choice phrases on the tip of his tongue, but does manage "Can't really answer that if you want me to shut up...," significantly. As the other stares, unamused and not giving an inch, Merlin sighs. "I dunno, Arthur, what do you think?"

Arthur mirrors the exhalation of breath, flinging up his arm. "I think that I haven't a clue what's going on, but I want you to tell me."

"Oh really? Who's the actual idiot then? If I've got to be the one to spell this out for you," Merlin challenges. The king sighs.

" _Mer_ -lin."

He never could resist that tone, to his own personal shame. With a show of immense reluctance, Merlin wraps arms around knees as he draws the latter appendages to his chest. "Fine." Merlin licks his lips and jerks his chin down. He cannot go on like this. Something must change. 

... Maybe there was something to Arthur inquiring whether or not he was going to go off into the forest.

Perhaps Merlin really ought to up and leave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cue dramatics. And sass. As well as words from their first meeting because I couldn't help myself.
> 
> Is Arthur going to figure things out? Is Merlin? They're both dollopheads, to be perfectly honest. But I love em.
> 
> Who knows if this will end in one? I may need more chapters to wrap things up. Let me know what you think.
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	3. Chapter 3

Merlin really ought to be impressed with him right now, Arthur decides, as he's outwardly admitted to having not a clue as to what is going on in the other man's head. He's said it so many times: _Sometimes I think I know you, Merlin. Other times... You never fail to surprise me. Thought I knew you._ But Merlin is always here, still; always at his side. Protecting him, he says. Helping him. Arthur had not admitted that fact at first, but he has become very much aware how much Merlin helps him. With his incessant chatting, yes; not to mention his actually not always terrible advice. In fact, Merlin somehow seems to have a knack for advising. For wisdom, which makes no sense. Arthur has seen where Merlin comes from, the village in Ealdor where he grew up. He met Merlin's mother, Hunith, a lovely kind woman. She made him see much, but one incredibly important thing was the fact that she had sent her son to Camelot for... something. Better, he supposes, though the way Merlin's just shouted at Arthur makes the king feel a bit sick. Because at that rate, this place isn't any better for him.... Well. Perhaps it should not surprise Arthur after all this time that Merlin imparts such sound advice.

He hasn't always treated Merlin well, and that would be bad enough if he really was a servant alone, but over the years Merlin has become far more than that. A friend. An advisor, a confidant. And, Arthur cannot keep himself from tracing the lines of Merlin's jaw and throat with his eyes, sight lingering a moment then upon those plush pink lips. The feeling of them against his own.... Arthur clears his throat and shifts himself, chin tucking as he forces his eyes ahead rather than studying Merlin. "Are you going to speak, or am I to sit out here the entire night wringing silence out of you?" He splutters now, tugging again on the edge of the cloak he had grabbed. "In that case I should've gotten something more to wear."

Merlin glances over and seems to take note of the garment's colour for the first time. It's blue, just about the shade of his eyes. He had given it to Arthur ages ago. Along with some other clothing pieces. _They're mine. I washed them specially._ And Arthur has kept it, this cloak, to wear on missions or excursions when it behooves him not to showcase to anyone that he is from Camelot, and the monarch of that kingdom, to boot. It is safe, and warm, and upon gazing at that faded cloth, closer in hue to his eyes than ever, Merlin bites his lip enough to taste sweet iron of blood and blinks long, voice thick as he at last forces out "Arthur." He has ceased crying now, his eyes are dry but his tone is hopeless.

Arthur hunches towards him, broad shoulders eclipsing much of the moonlight as he leans into Merlin's space. "Merlin," he says. "If you're worried over what I've done, I don't blame you. The way I've always treated you -" the king swallows, and even in the shadows dappling his face, Merlin sees his eyes cast down. "I don't blame you, for thinking -" raising his eyes again, Arthur lifts his arm in a vague wave. "... whatever it is that you're currently thinking, but I swear that wasn't me trying to use you." Swallowing again, a lump in his throat, Arthur coughs. Tries for a chuckle, a bit of banter as is their usual. "But - come on, Merlin, did you honestly think I would?"

Merlin opens his mouth, closes it. "I -" he looks at Arthur, seeing the way his king's features are pinched, how his eyes seem shinier than usual, as he has shifted so more light falls upon his face. How Arthur's body is coiled, tense, but his voice is even in the sharp way he had asked, somehow gentle. If he were anyone else, Merlin might think Arthur Pendragon was pleading with him not to think of him so ill. And Merlin doesn't, really. He is more afraid of himself, of his feelings. Has always been, even as afraid of putting Arthur into an awful position by telling of his magic.

So with brows rising, lips pressing together before he responds, Merlin replies softly "I don't want to put you in an impossible position, Arthur. Because it, this -" he gestures at himself and then between them, shaking his head, eyes prickling. "You know as well as I do that it would be impossible. For so many reasons." He tips his head slightly to the side. No matter what he may want, this has never been about him. It is for Arthur to be good and just and to rule well, to be honoured by the people, and what would Camelot think of this? More importantly to him, to both of them "Think of Gwen," Merlin breathes in a whisper. "If we act upon this, what it would do to her."

A spasm of agony crosses Arthur's face. He thinks of her, of course he does. Knows that she felt, and in some manner, still feels for Lancelot the way he realises he feels... "So you do," he gets out to his manservant. Stops himself then, shoulders heaving. "Then you do feel something. But - this is ridiculous, Merlin!" Arthur stands in a fury and flings up both arms, wiping his hand across his mouth before beginning to pace back and forth across the hallway, bare skin of his feet slapping against the stones, cloak swirling behind him.

The only response Merlin can offer is a small, sad smile as he looks up at the king. He stands, practically bouncing to his feet in silent litheness. Hesitating only briefly, he places his hand upon Arthur's shoulder, speaking again with tone of voice impossibly gentle. 

"I know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arthur in the blue cloak is important to me, and I feel like that garment is a metaphor for the way Merlin's always tried to be, a help, protection, comfort for his friend. Showing common things can be useful. A small thing, but I know Arthur's kept the cloak as he wore it multiple times in-show. Odd how much this little thing so moves me, but really it's the whole of their relationship, the growth of the both of them. 
> 
> Even though this is angsty, I want to be respectful of them, and of Gwen. They possess real love for one another, all. (Also how did people in the sixth century talk about same-gender romantic or sexual inclinations &c like???)
> 
> Comments appreciated <3


	4. Chapter 4

Merlin's grip is secure on Arthur's skin, the length of his fingers curls around, and Arthur struggles mightily not to lift them to his lips, or imagine them other places - he heaves out air, knowing that he has got to say this aloud, because otherwise Merlin is apparently too thick to understand - but no, not thick. He isn't actually an idiot. _"It's just another part of my charm,"_ he had said, looking over his shoulder to grin at Arthur in the open, real, guileless way that he had. Merlin hasn't smiled like that since; Arthur's heart thuds heavy in his chest cavity at the realisation of it. Even as he'd lived, something has changed. A sort of curtain had dropped between them, only yanked away this night, by force, with Arthur's kiss.

"Merlin," Arthur lifts his face, settles in to explain. Even with those sharp eyes on him. "...you have actually noticed the shift in Gwen's and my sleeping arrangements since Camlann, right?"

Merlin blinks, letting go of the shoulder of the king. "I, well I know that I did up a pallet for her with a lot of pillows while you were recovering, til your strength had the chance to fully return," he says at last.

Arthur nods. "Right, and you did in fact note that she wasn't with us tonight," he curls his fingers and makes a circling motion with his wrist, lifting both brows in an attempt to coax some understanding out of Merlin. 

The other man's black brows draw together. "Right, yes, of course. But you were together so much today in meetings with the clan chiefs, I thought perhaps she needed a break from you. I would if I was her," he expels a slight breathy laugh as Arthur rolls his eyes.

"Cute. But it hasn't been just for tonight, I, we have talked, Guinevere and I." Pressing his lips together, tilting his chin lower, Arthur continues "The way we feel for one another has changed. Or perhaps it wasn't what we thought, or wanted it to be, all this time. She told me, when I asked..." Swallowing hard "She still loves Lancelot, Merlin. And she helped me see that my love for her -" with a sniff and a blink, Arthur looks away, gesturing as widely as he does when frustrated by something he is unable to express. "We care deeply for one another, but we aren't in love. I mean, what kind of person takes at least a fortnight to recognise the love of his life has been... bewitched?" His voice catches on that word as his eyes snap back to Merlin's with almost a pleading expression in them. His voice rises in anguish. "When Gwen was being controlled by Morgana, I - I didn't _notice_ , Merlin!"

Merlin is lost for words the briefest instant, but he rallies. "You also never noticed my powers, Arthur," he teases gently. "I don't think that means you don't love her, you're just a clotpole."

"Hah," Arthur expels a hiss of breath between his teeth. He shakes his head, looks at the floor. "But I noted you weren't smiling after three days, Merlin. When you aren't being insolent or nattering on, I instantly know there is something wrong."

"Arthur, that's different, we're -"

"You're absolutely right, it's different."

Merlin feels helpless again. He cannot in good conscience accept this as it is, because "It's because we've been together every day these past ten years," he tries.

"... except all those days that Gaius told me you were in the tavern, ah." Arthur stops as if he understands something or has figured it at this precise moment. "You weren't actually ever in the tavern, were you?"

Merlin scoffs with incredulity. "Oh well done. NO, I only ever went to the tavern to fetch Gwaine, or when I was with you! Those days I was -"

"... being the sorcerer," Arthur finishes.

Merlin shrugs, tilting his head as he recalls. "Otherwise I was dying, or visiting the dragon, or -"

"Merlin!" With a loud hiss, Arthur cuts him off. His eyes are on Merlin's face, hands grasping his upper arms as the king looks him over as though to reaffirm his place amongst the living. He squeezes Merlin's arms gently before releasing hold of him. "Do you see now? I have talked to Guinevere."

Merlin smacks his lips together in a manner almost impish. His eyes are shining, but with tears no longer. "I do see, Sire," he breathes, and nearly leaps after him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no problems with Arthur and Gwen, I simply think they loved each other but weren't IN love with each other by the end of things. (And really Arthur may be a dollophead but if there were such deep feelings he would've noticed something being off with Gwen after she was controlled by Morgana, right? Right?)
> 
> Anyway. These two fellows are such dorks I adore them
> 
> Comments welcome <3


	5. Chapter 5

Merlin's body flies full-force into Arthur's, thudding into the king's chest, his arms wrapping around to hold tightly. Arthur staggers, body bowing back, and only just manages to catch Merlin's weight with a grunt even as the heel of his left foot slides and tangles with the hem of his cloak.

The automatic shift nearly strangles the king and he loses his footing entirely with a creaking gasp that turns into a yowl of Merlin's name.

Merlin extends his arm and whispers a word, his eyes glowing gold. They both freeze in midair, slowly drifting down to the floor. Merlin's body is flush to Arthur's as the king looks into his eyes in wonder. "Lucky I got better at this spell," Merlin murmurs as Arthur settles to the stones light as a falling leaf onto the forest floor. "... first time I tried catching a bucket of water falling off Gaius' table and knocked it upside down."

"Gods, you're an idiot," Arthur retorts, but he cannot help continuing to gaze at Merlin in awe. "Yet you're a wonder." In his tone there is fondness. With that Arthur reaches up and ruffles Merlin's hair, taking hold of the back of his head. Looking into Merlin's face and gauging his reaction, Arthur puts the slightest hint of pressure in his grasp on Merlin's hair. 

Without hesitation, only a smile that crinkles his eyes, Merlin moves down to Arthur and catches his face in one long hand, fitting their lips together in a kiss. He moves into Arthur, lips and body both, and holds the king's face in his two hands, feeling Arthur twine his arms around Merlin's back and neck. "Arthur," Merlin whispers into the kiss, letting out a slight high sound as the king moves his lips to Merlin's cheek and jawline, and then takes teeth to one ear, Merlin trailing his own lips down to Arthur's neck. "Arthur, we should -"

"Keep going? About bloody time," a deep rumbling precedes a sharp burst of feeling deep within Merlin as Arthur's teeth catch the shell of his ear and nibble round its edge, tongue lavishing the skin around and inside. Merlin buries his face into Arthur's neck even as he knows they ought to move, to relocate at least somewhere the cold hard floor isn't digging into Arthur's back.

Merlin nuzzles at Arthur's cheek, feeling breath and teeth and tongue across his face before he presses his lips to Arthur's again, sliding hands around to spread them across his back, kneading the muscles of his shoulders. "Come on, up you get, clotpole," he whispers, and is rewarded with an immediate jerk backwards of Arthur's head. He would thunk the back of his skull into the floor if not for Merlin lifting his hand and catching hold. "There now, let's go," he disentangles his legs from Arthur's and stands, using his other hand to tug the king upright. "I'll need to speak to Gwen too, y'know," he says as Arthur reaches out and wraps both arms around Merlin's waist, crossing wrists one over the other and getting ahold of his bum to squeeze. "Arthur," Merlin breathes, practically moans into the other man's mouth even as he tries desperately to collect himself. "I'm being serious."

"Alright, I know, but I am serious too." Arthur holds tighter. "And right now I'm serious about you taking me even if it's in this very hall."

"No, not in the hall, Arthur." The king is afraid his next words will be 'not tonight', but Merlin gets a secret sort of smile on his face and takes the king by one hand, threading their fingers together with a bracing squeeze. "Let's go, erm--, to my room. Quietly," he adds, a flush creeping across his sharp high cheekbones. "So we don't wake Gaius."

Gaius. Right. "Not a problem," Arthur manages, trying and failing to stop a smile from spreading across his face. "For me, at least - you had better not run into the blooming doorframe, Merlin."

"I have some talents, Arthur, and one of them is -"

"- Running directly into every door you come across?" Arthur asks, grin turning into a laugh.

Merlin stares as if affronted, but then shakes his head, lips twitching before his deep-throated laughter also rises. "You're a total turnip head!"

For a moment Arthur grows serious. "I'm your turnip head," he says, and Merlin's entire face softens. 

"Well, then I suppose I'll just have to make do." 

That cheeky quip accompanies a blinding smile, and Arthur shoves him with a seemingly indignant "Merlin!" Before laughter consumes him again. 

Merlin's mirth joins the king's to echo up and down the hall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so I've finished this little story about these dorks. Merlin is going to talk to Gwen - I imagine Arthur still wants to take care of her, and would want her to help him rule, so their marriage would be one of care for the people. I think she knows how he feels about Merlin, whether from her own observations or from Arthur himself. In any case, I would like to think she would understand and accept he and Merlin having a relationship.
> 
> Comments welcome and appreciated <3


End file.
